The Soaring Eagle
by Star Kirkland-Jones
Summary: Arthur Kirkland was just your everyday punk looking for an outlet to express himself that wasn't completely destructive. He never expected that outlet to be American and... a ghost? Join Alfred and Arthur for an adventure worth dying for. (Rated T for mild language and other things that might happen later on.) Main pairing is UKUS.
1. News to Me

_Hiya guys! I've been reading Hetalia fan fictions here for more than a year, and finally decided that I would contribute. I'd be greatly appreciative if you reviewed and left some feedback. You don't have to, but I'd be very thankful to you. This story, in case you didn't already know, is an America and England story. The main pairing is UKUS, but there's a hint of other things here and there. Another thing I would like to mention, is that if you have any commentary, like anything you'd like to see, I'd be more than happy to see what I can do. I won't guarantee anything, but I'm just putting that out there. Thanks again~ Now on with the show~ LIGHTS, CAMERAS, ACTION~_

Chapter One

**News to Me**

Disturbed teenagers often had an uncanny knack for getting into trouble with the higher powers, such as parents, police officers, and so on. Some of these adolescents broke into stores to steal the merchandise or to vandalize the walls with colorful spray paint while others did drugs and alcohol. Whatever it was, all of them did it for one specific reason; the thrill of the game. The game was simple, all one had to do was not get caught. Why then, was the end result always the same? Was their original plan to get caught? Were they simply doing the things that they did for attention that they claimed they were being deprived of? Whatever the answer, there was always one individual who acted like them, but didn't fit in with the social clique.

His name was Arthur Kirkland, and he didn't like where he was at in life. He resented the United States from the moment that he moved there from his native country of England. Having lived there for the majority of his childhood, he still maintained his crisp English accent that made the ladies flock to him like he was a godsend. They often left disappointed however, because of either his ill-tempered personality or his pronounced eyebrows. His pale blond hair was dyed green to rival his eye color, and his piercings gave him a crude appearance that normally scared people away. The seventeen year old British student was rebellious and rude, and people steered clear from him as if he were the plague; all except for the obnoxious Frenchman that _insisted_ on pestering him.

"Mon chère~," the Frenchman practically sang, trying to get Arthur's attention, interrupting the loud music that he'd been trying to enjoy.

"What do you want, frog?" The green eyed male demanded.

"'Ave you 'eard of ze ghost zat 'aunts ze amusement park nearby?" He asked, running his fingers through his long blond hair as he closely watched for Arthur's reaction. The English student just glared at his personal nuisance.

"Ghosts aren't real you bloody idiot!" He snapped, crossing his slender legs as he folded his arms over his lanky torso, glaring dangerously at the Frenchman that persisted to bother him even after he made it clear he wanted nothing to do with him.

"Oui, but I disagree~ I 'eard that ze ghost zere is breathtaking~ I also 'eard that 'e would die for some company… You need eet, mon ami… Eef not moi, zen 'ow about 'im?" He asked, sounding somewhat concerned for his friend.

"Francis, I'm not bloody interested in chasing some fairy tale ghost at some theme park in the middle of nowhere. That's bloody daft. Besides I already stated that ghosts don't bloody _exist_!" He snapped, huffing at his companion, walking a bit faster in hopes of slamming a door in his face. Not that he would tell Francis that.

"Well 'ave it your way, Arthur… I just wanted to tell you… And now you know. So I shall be leaving. Bonsoir, mon ami~" Francis nearly sang before he turned around and left the Brit to his own devices. He sighed deeply. He didn't hate Francis; he just really wished that he'd leave him alone so he could think. Maybe that's why he hung around so much… The other man's presence definitely was a distraction from his harsh reality…

He thought about this amusement park. What if there really was a ghost, Arthur wanted to know about it. It was apparently a guy, but that was all that Arthur knew about him… How'd he die? Was he the reason the park closed in the first place? How long had he been dead? He bit his lip as he finally made up his mind. He'd go home and see if he could find anything about this mysterious ghost that was haunting the local deserted theme park. It was a foolproof plan if not for the fact that he knew nothing about the park to begin with… Wait, he could always look it up. He was looking up the ghost anyway, so it's not like he'd be doing anything that was overly out of the way…

With an extra spring to his step, his quickly made it the rest of the way home. Cautiously, he opened the door, letting himself in and being as quiet as humanly possible. He wouldn't let his brothers know he was home. He'd simply go to his room and stay there for the remainder of the evening, or at least until it was dark enough to be able to sneak out. One didn't risk sneaking out of the house in the middle of the day; that would just be stupid. That having been said, Arthur inched his was upstairs, carefully opening his door before carefully closing it, thankful that no one seemed to be home at the moment. He smirked to himself as he sat down on his bed, pulling his laptop out from under his pillow. As he waited for the machine to boot up he quietly tapped his knee with his fingers.

"I wonder why he's stayed there… If I was a ghost I'd want to get out of this miserable place they call America and go back to England. Everything made sense there…" He muttered to himself, scowling at the wall. He'd find a way to get back home somehow… His thoughts were rudely interrupted by his laptop when the infernal device gave off its log in tune. How he hated that he couldn't seem to shut the bloody machine up… He never understood why they all had to make noises when they booted up. It was utterly ridiculous.

As he logged onto his profile, he clicked on the internet, immediately looking up local amusement parks that had shut down. One in particular caught his eye.

_On July Fourth of 2004, the amusement park formally known as The Great American Adventure closed its gates for the last time due to a tragic accident on one of the roller coasters. Not much is known about the incident itself other than the fact that it stole the life of a fourteen year old boy by the name of Alfred Jones. "We'd gone to the park for his birthday," said his mother, Amelia Jones, explaining the reason for going to the park on Independence Day. "It'd been all he'd directly asked for, so of course we gave in. He'd told us all about the new ride that the park owners had just put in called 'the Soaring Eagle'. He waited in line for that ride for two hours before it was finally his turn. His father and I hadn't been feeling good, but we trusted him to stay safe…" _

_The coaster itself had been running smoothly previously, so it was a big surprise to everyone when it derailed. Amazingly, Alfred had been the only one to die in the park itself. However, three other visitors, Matthew Williams (Alfred's step-brother), Gilbert Beilschmidt, and Elizabeta Héderváry had also been on the rogue coaster, but died in the hospital mere hours later. The park owner was devastated and ended up selling the park, offering it to the state. It's unclear what the state plans to do with the park, but it's obvious that it might sit while they try and figure it out._

Arthur blinked his green eyes, confused for a moment. If four people died, then why was only one ghost haunting it? He scoffed. This whole thing was probably some stupid prank put together by the yanks of the area, looking for something to do with their time. Surely there were better things to do than make fun of someone that died… That just seemed cold and shallow to him. Not that he was one to talk…

"Well that's it. I'm going to this bloody amusement park to see for myself whether or not this 'Alfred' is there or not. If it's some prank it's going to be the end of those petty Americans… They'll never know what hit them in the bloody head." He stated to himself, grabbing his bookbag and stuffing everything he figured he'd probably need into it. This was going to be interesting…


	2. There's No Such Thing

_Welcome back guys! I plan to update this regularly, but seeing as how I'm still in high school, time to actually write out my thoughts can be limited due to homework and or upcoming tests. But I promise to do my best~! And thank you for those who reviewed my first chapter. It was very much appreciated. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask! Now, on with the chapter~!_

Chapter Two

**There's No Such Thing**

Finding the park was no problem seeing as how it stood alone in the crisp American evening. The roller coaster than had taken four lives while the park was still open, seemed to be clawing for the sky. Arthur would never understand why people liked them so much as he gazed up at the chained up gate that stood in his way. Here it was another thing he would never understand. Why must these yanks chain up everything? Did they assume that the chains would scare unwanted visitors away? Surely they knew better than that… All one had to do was climb over the gate and they'd be in the deserted park… That was precisely what Arthur did, showing off surprising strength for his lanky form. He landed on the other side of the fence smoothly, scowling to himself.

"What a bloody waste of time…" The English teenager muttered to himself as he dusted off invisible dirt.

"What's a waste of time…?" A voice asked hesitantly, startling Arthur out of his thoughts. He looked around, more than a little surprised to not see anyone. What kind of sick joke was this?

"Who's there?! I demand you show yourself you bloody wanker!" He demanded, glaring in every direction, his voice ringing in the once quiet park. He scared a few slumbering birds for all of his efforts, but no one came out.

"My name is Alfred, and there's really no reason to yell… It's just me." The faceless voice sounded gloomy, perfectly fitting into its surroundings. He'd certainly never heard this particular voice for sure, so he was almost positive it wasn't someone that went to his school. Who then, would be making fun of a tragic story such as Alfred's? Did the town's children find it amusing to play these games? "Why are you here? No one comes to visit this place anymore…" Arthur bit his pierced lip. He wasn't at all prepared for this.

"I'm here in search of something." He claimed.

"…Really? Maybe I can help!" Arthur shivered at the sudden cool breeze that hit him. He should have brought a coat… "…What's your name? You already know mine… Say, how do you feel about coasters? Have you been on The Soaring Eagle? It's my favorite!" The English student really didn't know what to think about this Alfred character… He was starting to wonder if it really was a trick anymore… They seemed to know about the American that died here…

"My name is Kirkland. Arthur Kirkland." He sighed, finally giving into the faceless voice. He'd humor it for the moment. After all, it's not like it really was a ghost, right? Ghosts didn't exist. Fairies maybe, but definitely not stupid American ghosts.

"Can I call ya Artie? I like Artie better." The voice giggled, sounding like it had moved somewhat closer. That in itself was odd; there was nowhere in front of him to hide behind. That is, unless of course, they were invisible or just excellent at blending into their surroundings… He'd never known anyone like that, but he figured they probably existed, considering how many people ignored him.

"No, you may not call me 'Artie' you bloody twat, my name is Arthur." He snapped, although he somehow doubted that the ghost would ever call him by his actual, more dignified, name. Americans were daft when it came to matters of the name, weren't they?

"Naw, I think Imma just call you Artie. If it makes you feel better, you can call me Alfie." The voice supplied, sounding more excited than he had when Arthur first got there. Who was this, and why did they seem so happy to see him? Where they blind or simply that stupid?

"That most certainly doesn't make me feel any better, idiot. But if you _insist_ to make a right fool of yourself, have fun. Just leave my name out of it." Arthur snapped, walking forward somewhat and looking around for a face to go with the voice that was doing a horrid job of holding a decent conversation.

"Aww, come on, Artie, loosen' up! I don't mean ya any harm, I promise! I'm the hero after all!" The green eyed male rolled his eyes. He swore that all Americans had the same idiotic mindset… "Hey, I've been meanin' to ask, what are those things on your face? Are they caterpillars that got stuck there and died or what?"

"They're not bloody caterpillars!" Arthur snapped, sneering at the direction where he'd heard the voice. Why did everyone have to say such rude things about his eyebrows? They'd been bushy ever since he could remember. Every person in his family had them except his mother, so he really didn't see what the bloody problem was. Perhaps they just wanted something to laugh at. As if he was the perfect candidate. Stupid yanks…

"Oh! Sorry man… No need to be upset. Please don't be mad at me… You're the first person I've seen in ages! No one has time for this park or me anymore; no one except for the birds that is. They live here though, and they're not very talkative. Unless squawking counts. Which I don't think it does because I can't understand it… Do you understand them?" Arthur sighed. Whoever this was didn't seem to get the hint that he really didn't want to talk to them. The only reason he was even here in this run down park in the first place, was to prove to the frog that ghosts didn't exist. The longer he was here however, talking to this voice, the more he started to doubt his original theory. The American accent sounded somewhat soothing, holding a slight echo to it that wasn't natural by human standards. Plus, where was the person to go with the voice? Was it disembodied? He sure hoped not…

"Of _course_ don't speak bird. Are you a bloody idiot? No one can speak that. It's not even a language. I haven't the time to waste trying to decipher utter rubbish such as that." He scoffed, his tired gaze scanning the path in front of him. It looked relatively safe… If someone walked slow that is… One never knew for sure by looking.

"Oh… That sucks… Cuz I think they laugh at me. You don't laugh at me though… So you can't be too bad." The American mumbled. He sounded strangely closer. How was it moving forwards if he still couldn't see him? The Invisible Man wasn't real… "Promise you won't scream." He stated, causing Arthur to look around in confusion. Why would he have any reason to scream?

"What?" He asked, scolding himself internally for sounding stupid.

"Just promise me. Please… I don't want to lose another friend…" The expression in the voice was obvious, sadness so strong that it made Arthur's ears ring.

"I…I promise…" He murmured.

"Okay… Please don't run away either… I just- I just wanna be fair." Was all he said before Arthur was forced to turn away. Blinded by a bright blue light, he tried to make out the shape suddenly making itself known. This had to be some sort of trick. No living person could produce such a light out of thin air. "You can look now, Arthur." At that, the English seventeen year old turned. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. In front of him, was an American with bright blue eyes, and wheat blond hair. He was wearing a gentle smile, baggy jeans, and a hoodie that screamed American at him. Where had this boy come from, and why was he so breathtaking?

"…What? I don't- I don't understand." He confessed, knitting his eyebrows together in confusion.

"My name is Alfred F. Jones, and I welcome you to the best place on earth. Welcome, to the Great American Adventure. I'll be your guide throughout the duration of your stay. Can I interest you in any souvenirs?" He teased playfully, attempting to sound professional. He was bloody awful at it, but he couldn't say he minded. He still didn't understand though. He'd he get in front of him so quickly? He should have heard footsteps in the very least, or possibly seen Alfred trying to sneak up on him. This was so bloody confusing.

"Where were you hiding?" He demanded, glaring at the boy in front of him. The younger one of the two didn't even react to his glares! He just kept smiling as if he didn't have a care in the world. He probably didn't, seeing as how he was still hanging out in the theme park…

"I wasn't hiding anywhere, dude; I was invisible. I'm kinda dead and stuff… I thought you knew that. Everyone else who's been here recently knew that. They kept tryin' to get pictures of me… Talk about creepy, they didn't even ask for permission! You can't just randomly take pictures of someone you don't know! For real, it was really annoying…" Alfred sighed deeply, his smile drooping somewhat at the corners. "I really don't see what the big deal is… Before I died I was terrified of ghosts… Why try and get pictures? Why can't people just leave them alone, ya know? Let them go about their after lives in peace." Arthur gaped at him. He couldn't possibly be serious. This _had_ to be some sick joke. He looked around wildly, scanning his surroundings, but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. What the bloody hell was going on here, and why the hell did everyone seem in on it except for him? He hoped that no one was watching him…

"You _must _be joking." Arthur reprimanded, greatly hoping that this really was some sick joke and not reality. He wouldn't be able to handle ghosts being real. Fairies sure, but ghosts were an entirely different subject. The American in front of him looked hurt.

"You think I'm joking about my own death…? Why would I do something like that…?" Alfred teared up somewhat, making Arthur blink at him in shock. He hadn't meant to make the boy cry!

"I just- I'm sorry-" His apology fell on deaf ears when the boy was suddenly gone. He saw it with his own eyes this time. That meant that Alfred had been telling the truth, and he'd just insulted him. Splendid. He just made a ghost cry.


	3. Take My Hand

_Greetings fellow FanFiction dwellers! I'm so glad you're still hangin' around. Just wanted to let you know that there's a good chance I won't be able to update this weekend. I have the SAT's on Saturday and then I'm going to my mom's. I do have access to a computer but I seldom see her, and her mom just died so… Yeah, we're gonna be busy… Anyway, thank you so much for sticking with me during this crazy time! I'll do my best to update at least once a week. If I can't, I'll probably make that specific chapter longer. But seeing as how that's normal for this site, I know you probably already knew that… ALSO, I apologize for rambling or if anyone is out of character. I normally only have to play America, so this is really different for me. ^^" Carry on~ The third chapter awaits~!_

Chapter Three

**Take My Hand**

Arthur could have slapped himself. He should have been given an award for how to treat people as if they were the dirt they walked on, because he was clearly the best at it. The young ghost had a right to be upset at him though… He'd been rude, and he knew that if someone said that to _him _he'd be furious. "Alfred? ALFRED! Alfred please… I'm sorry I said what I said… I didn't know it'd make you cry…"

A mangled stuffed rabbit prize was thrown at his head, making him spin around in a circle, trying to spot the teenaged ghost. "Go away!" The wind yelled, making the English student flinch. "I don't want to see your stupid face anymore!" Another stuffed prize was thrown at him, his vision going slightly askew.

"Alfred, _please_… I just want to talk to you…" Arthur pleaded. His only reply was the wind picking up, forcing the green eyed male deeper into the dark park. From where he was, he could see the paint peeling on the sign for one of the concession stands, the wood sagging with the effort of keeping the rain out. The structure was obviously failing if the mildew was any indication. He sighed deeply. This park was truly a depressing place to visit at night, and most likely during the day as well. Why would Alfred want to stay here…? Or maybe he didn't want to, but was forced to. If that was the case, than Arthur wanted to free the lively spirit. He seemed young… To be left to age in such a place like this with no company must be truly awful. No wonder he'd been so eager to try and talk to him. He was most likely the most company he'd seen in years.

"No you don't, you just want to laugh at me like everybody else! Get out! I don't want you here anymore if all you're gonna do is be a bully. All I ever deal with here is bullies. Just leave me alone." How had Alfred made it this long all by himself with what he was describing? Had he simply lost the will to care about what happened around him? Perhaps that was why the park was so forlorn looking…

"I didn't come here to laugh at you, Alfred. I came to learn something new about the world, and to prove a certain frog wrong. It appears like he was right however. It's a good thing I didn't bet any money on the matter… He'd never leave me alone about it." He scoffed, scowling at a crow that squawked at him.

"…Prove who wrong about what?" The ghost asked hesitantly, slowly rematerializing on one of the rotting concession stands, a pile of plushies in his transparent hands.

"An acquaintance of mine was telling me about the local ghost that haunted this amusement park. That was earlier today, and here I am, proven wrong. Ghosts do exist… Not that I'll tell him that… Bloody frog." Arthur scoffed, tsking under his breath. No, he'd tell Francis come morning that the rumors he'd heard were a lie and that there was no ghost in the deserted amusement park. Yes, hopefully that would let Alfred be at peace. Arthur wasn't really sure why he suddenly cared, but he dismissed it. Those were trivial matters. All Arthur wanted was for this teenager to be able to live his afterlife in peace. He would question himself later when he wasn't in the spirit's friendly company.

"…Oh… He sounds cool I guess? Can I meet him?" Alfred asked hesitantly, slowly putting down his stuffed ammunition.

"Absolutely not, Alfred; you wouldn't like him." The ghost blinked at the green eyed male as they did a mini staring contest. Alfred shrugged, jumping down from atop the platform he'd been standing on, landing on the ground without a sound. Arthur watched the whole thing curiously. Why had his landing not made a sound? Was that yet another side effect of being dead?

"Oh well~ I still have you, right? You won't leave me like everybody else did? I don't wanna be alone anymore… It's scary here when I'm all by myself… It's like it's all a nightmare and I'm too far gone to wake up. Like I'm in a horror movie maybe? Yeah. This is all like nightmare in a horror movie. I'm the only one here, and I'm waiting for someone to rescue me from myself. Inside I know that no one's coming though. The only one that's ever here is me, and the birds. They aren't much for company though. Not like you are. So please don't leave me all alone, Arthur. Promise me. Promise me that you'll be the one to stay." Alfred was barely a foot away from Arthur now, giving him a clear view of the young ghost. He had dirt streaked on his cherub face while he could see dried blood matting the wheat blond hair down to the blue eyed ghosts head. His outfit was tattered and covered in holes, just as dirty as the rest of him. Whatever had happened after The Soaring Eagle had derailed must have done this. There was no way to make him this dirty otherwise. Arthur offered Alfred his hand, curious to see what the dirty spirit would do. Alfred blinked at his hand, and then at him, a questioning glisten in his eyes.

"I promise Alfred. Just take my hand, I want to test something." Arthur stated earnestly, his confidence waning the longer Alfred made him stand there with his hand out stretched. Was he going to take his hand or not?

"…Okay. I trust you." The American ghost stated before taking Arthur's hand, his touch cold and surprisingly light. It was almost like the ghost was simply the wind. Arthur suddenly wondered what it would feel like to kiss the ghost, but he quickly dismissed it. It'd be cold and airy, just like how they were holding hands.

"I half expected your hand to go through mine…" Arthur mumbled dumbly, right before Alfred fazed his hand through the English students.

"Like that?" Alfred laughed, an amused smile on his face. "I can control it, ya know? S'kinda a pain sometimes, but oh well. It can be really helpful too!"

_I would just like to remind you about reviewing. It means a lot to me for all of your feedback, and makes me want to update me. You don't have to, but it would definitely brighten my day. Thank you~! See you soon!_


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